


Sweet Sacrifice

by LittlexNightingale



Series: Noir [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Romance, Blood and Violence, F/M, POV Third Person, Resolved Sexual Tension, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 07:10:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12743508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlexNightingale/pseuds/LittlexNightingale





	Sweet Sacrifice

Sweet Sacrifice | Prologue | In the Dark

There were voices coming from deep within the gloomy recesses of the old, damp cellar. Voices that in time became unclear and died away – along with their agony. But not recently, as Ana Patterson came to realize, floating down into a conscious state to hear only the autumn crickets singing outside. The sounds of screaming came to an abrupt end. Ana knew this was not a typical kidnapping, with plans to release the victim upon a money exchange from the family. She knew that she was going to eventually die.

Her usual calm and collected personality had abandoned her. She was now unstable. How could she not be? A month ago, or longer – days and nights seemed to blur together after a while – none of this was real. Monsters did not exist to Ana; not real monsters anyway.

If someone had warned her that she'd be a potential test subject in the experiments of a merciless sociopath, she'd kill herself laughing. However, it was far too late for jests. Not that it stopped her from cackling hysterically at the sheer dryness of her situation, like she was now.

The nightmares were very real, and Ana broke into a fit of loud sobbing once she realized that waking from one left her in yet another. She was still in the same old house, locked in the same old bedroom with the boarded up windows and the unsightly, floral wallpaper. The stink of stale, humid air hung around her like a blanket, and if not for the dryness in the back of her soar throat, Ana would have closed her tired eyes and tried to get some rest. Eternal sleep sounded like distant sirens to her ears. But something nagging inside of her wouldn't allow her to give up.

Ana had to get up. Her muscles felt rigid and drained from the recent convulsions, but she managed to untangle herself from the sweat-soaked sheets and sit with her legs over the side of the bed. For a moment she had to fight away the need to vomit, taking slow, deep breaths. The injections from her therapy made her feel nauseous, and usually her first hours awake were spent hugging the toilet seat until the toxins left her system. The grit of stale vomit on her teeth reminded her that she had survived yet another one.

The swollen veins beneath her skin felt like they were on fire as she pushed her back straight, and lifted her eyes to the security camera on the wall in the corner of the bedroom. The red light teased her, indicating that she was never alone. The smart, young woman knew that he was watching – the tall man, she liked to call him. He always watched her, she believed, because the only time that light went out was when he came in to feed her, or put her through another chemical induced nightmare.

Ana hated to see his face, especially behind the course, burlap mask he liked to wear, but she also needed him at the moment. She sluggishly raised her arm and waved it at the camera, signaling for the tall man to give her attention. Ana wasn't sure whether it had an audio option, but she motioned with her hands that she needed something to drink by curling her fingers around an invisible cup, bringing it up to her lips. She made the gesture a few more times, before dropping back onto the bed in exhaustion.

Ana waited, listening to the old house creak and pop. It had been silent otherwise; no screams from the others downstairs, and no indication that the tall man was coming. As she counted the sagging tiles on the ceiling – she'd done this every day after a session to clear her mind – the room lit up in flashes of red and blue. Ana thought the toxin in her system had been playing tricks on her at first, but the lights were soon accompanied by the sound of loud sirens. Had she not imagined them earlier? Apparently not, because they were very real. Ana shot up in a sitting position on the bed, despite the dizziness that came rushing back, and glanced hopefully toward the boarded up window across the room. Sure enough, there were lights peeking through the spaces where the wood did not meet.

Someone had finally come to save her. But had she known that the feeling would be short-lived, Ana wouldn't have jumped to her feet in excitement, because the second she did, her legs gave out and she plummeted to the cold, hardwood floor with a loud smack. Ana coughed, inhaling the dust particles she had stirred up, and began to sob. Her legs were asleep, and it felt like pins and needles were sticking her into the heels of her feet.

While she was lying there, she heard the sound of footsteps pounding against the floor below her. The tall man, she assumed sounded like he was in a hurry – the police were right outside the door. His long legs took extensive steps as he moved from room to room, eventually coming to a stop at the foot of the staircase where the bedroom Ana was being held was situated. The young woman felt her heart beat increase. The tall man was coming for her now.

Ana tried to stand, quickly lifting herself onto her elbows as she pushed her upper body off the floor. But, her legs were still inoperable. She had to find a secure place to hide. The young woman thought that if she could get to the bathroom she could lock herself in, and maybe the police would find her before the tall man could kill her. She began to crawl, using her upper arm strength to slide herself along the floor like a snake.

 _Just a few more inches_ , she told herself, trying to trick her mind into thinking that she might make it. The pin sensation in her feet was slowly becoming numb. It hurt to move her toes, but within minutes she'd be able to stand. Regrettably, the bedroom door flew open, shooting an uninvited light into her sensitive eyes. Ana focused her attention on the lanky silhouette in the door way and held her breath, well aware that the man had his eyes on her too, regardless of the gleam in his square-shaped reading glasses from the gas lamp he was holding. The light in the hallway behind him was shut off, making the bedroom look darker than before.

Ana wasted no time with thinking. She slammed her knees onto the floor and pushed herself up, running for the bathroom door. She had nearly made it, but the tall man was too quick, and Ana was knocked off her feet by an external force. She crashed to the floor for a second time, crying out in pain as her right arm snapped beneath her weight. Her trembling body felt limp the minute the tall man lifted her up into his arms and moved her over to the bed to sit with him.

"Don't try to run. You won't get very far," his voice said calmly.

Ana struggled against the tall man, in spite of his recent statement. She had been so close to freedom that the pain of her broken arm felt nearly insignificant. Even so, she was not on par with the unexpected strength of the lanky doctor's right arm – the other kept a hold on the gas lamp in case the struggle between them got more intense. It curled around her waist like a snake, pulling her against his winded chest. Ana nearly spat insults at him as his crotch bumped into her bottom, once he settled her between his legs.

"L-Let me go," Ana cried. It had been so long since she had used her voice that she was surprised by how broken it sounded.

The tall man silenced her with a boney finger. "Be quiet now," he whispered. Despite the softness of his tone, he meant it as a warning.

And so she did, hoping not to send him into a fit of rage – he was prone to throw temper tantrums when she was not cooperative. Ana kept her back straight to avoid touching him, save for his arms around her waist – the lamp he left on the bedside table.

The shrill cry of the police sirens throbbed in her ears, but Ana kept still as a statue. She concentrated on the warm unstable breath that fanned across her neck as the sociopath behind her began to hum quietly as they waited – for what, Ana wasn't sure, but the panic began to set in. What happened to the others? He kept them in the cellar, but she could not hear them now. Did he kill them? Was she next? Ana had a hunch she was, but she also thought he may need her, otherwise she would be dead right now.

From nowhere a noise was made. The sound of footsteps on the roof of the house made Ana feel uneasy. Had the police lost their minds? They must have, because the woman knew they weren't being low-key. Who in their right mind would try an aerial raid? Ana wasn't given time to mull over the thought, because the tall man shoved her forward and off the edge of the bed. He caught her upper arm and drug her up to stand with him, not exactly gentle with her throbbing right hand as he curled an arm around her heaving chest – the other slipped beneath her short, sleeping gown and brought the front up and over her belly button.

"Please stop," the woman begged. She wasn't sure what he was doing, but she didn't like it. Her panties were exposed to him, and her sweat-covered skin felt cooler now that the gown was pulled away, bringing goosebumps to the surface.

The tall man chuckled at her, burying his face into her hair. "This may hurt a little," he whispered.

A sharp twinge in her stomach, right below her navel made the woman stiffen up. She glanced down to see a standard sized insulin needle in her skin. Her eyes fogged over with fresh tears as she grew aware of the man's intentions. He was going to use her as a hostage, or so she hoped. Ana didn't want to be drugged again.

The level of potency at which he claimed to have injected her with during their last session was too recent, and Ana was terrified at the thought of overdosing. She coiled tighter to herself, but a sheer pain swelled in the fat of her upper thigh. The tall man had buried his stubby nails into her skin and pulled her closer to him. Her back was now pressed tightly against his chest.

"Be still now."

Ana nearly snapped an obscene reply at him, if not for the fact his finger was on the plunger of the needle 2 inches below her belly button. Instead she hummed in disapproval.

"Are you scared? Tell me how you feel."

Again, she hummed a no. Ana did not want to indulge him. But his anger was not to be tempted. He hissed at her, and tightened his grip on her thigh, scratching deep, red marks into her skin.

Ana cried out, sobbing hysterically. She was terrified, no need to deny it. "P-Please stop. You're hurting me." The idea of begging for her life crossed her mind. She could give him exactly what he wanted. But then, he still would kill her. Ana had to try and keep herself alive long enough for the police to find her.

"You don't have to hurt me. I-I do want to be cured." Ana told the truth. She did want to be free of fear, free of him. However, his methods bordered more on torture than anything else. She might not live much longer, if he continued to treat her like a victim. Her head turned slowly in his direction. "Didn't you promise to help me, Doctor Crane?"

"And I have, my dear. But our time together is at an end." His soft voice echoed in her ear. His fingers drew slow, lax circles around the soft skin on her leg. "Have I not helped you to overcome your fears?"

Ana gave his question a thought. In all honesty, she wasn't sure. She felt more worn-out than ever, but she didn't feel any different. The concept of death still frightened her. It brought shivers to her body, a slip up that incited a loud, hot blooded chuckle from the tall man – Jonathan Crane.

 _I could lie_ , she told herself, but she was scared of what he might do to her. Doctor Crane spent enough time trying to break her and pick apart her mind, that he knew when she was lying. The fact was, time had ran out, and he was going to finish her off. Ana squeezed her eyes shut and with regret shook her head in disagreement.

He again chuckled darkly into her neck. "No, well that's unfortunate, my dear." His thump playfully tapped the head of the plunger.

Ana shook in fear. "Please," she begged. The pitiful sound of her voice made her want to vomit. Quiet sobs racked her body and tears fell down her face.

Jonathan Crane shushed her. He was in glee. The young woman in his arms was the type of person he never thought could have challenged him, but she did. She was so scared of him, of the things he could do to her, even though she hid it so well. But the one thing he craved – no matter how hard he pressured her – she simply would not give him. Ana Patterson would not scream for him. It both thrilled and annoyed Jonathan. "Let me break you," he begged, burying his face into her hair. "We don't have much time."

He was right. The door was suddenly knocked open, and the sound of a smoke grenade burst and rolled across the floor, spilling wisps of smoke into the air. Whatever Jonathan was saying to her was drown out by the officers of the GCPD as they swarmed them. Ana cried out for them to stop, but a warm tingle surged through her body – Jonathan injected the neon orange liquid into her. Almost instantly, her mind felt unclear; the familiar sense of panic began to rise.

The toxin worked its way into her conscious and consumed her like a thick, warm blanket, forcing her body into a violent fit of convulsions. It hurt so bad. She dropped to the floor, curling into herself as the world around her went dark.

For the first time in her life, she longed to die.

* * *

 

 Author's Notes: Sweet Sacrifice was written as book one of three. It features many of the canon cast, but since this is only the first part, I will leave out the secondary characters and focus only one the primary ones.

I ask that fans of whichever Jonathan Crane imagine him as they like. I only used information on him from both the Earth 52 comics and the Arkham Knight series. However, I have no problem with the version of Jonathan Crane from the Dark Knight Trilogy, so whichever is fine with me.

Disclaimer: Batman and its entire franchise are copyrighted and belong to Bob Kane, Bill Finger and many more.

Ana Louise Patterson and many others belong to me. Thanks for reading and enjoy the series.

-Nightingale


End file.
